Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

A Look Back, 2017: Popular Post A Day Poetry by Month

January, 2017

moon man

without the sunlight
the man in the moon is lost
wandering the night

February, 2017

emotions – silencing;

when you whisper, notes
vanish, shrinking in the air
becoming shadows
of the music your voice could
sing – they could have filled the air

March, 2017

of rain

what if ripples from a raindrop
were one last call out into the wild, a touch on
another raindrop’s shoulders to say
this is where i am, i’m over here
now consider, carefully,
when we say
i love the sound of rain
what we hear against the roofs and windshields are their
bodies colliding, then sliding softly to their resting places
lost in the faces of puddles, oceans, and seas
it almost sounds cruel to think of it in this way …
but maybe we are romanced by the rain
because we see something beautiful in the way
it receives and lets go of its pain

April, 2017

the origin of silver lining

the sun clawed across the sky
with a taunting smirk playing in his eyes
a lost, lonely cloud whispered a prayer
then sent her sadness everywhere
across the body of the earth
which told her she was well worth more
than what the shadows told her
in her mind and asked for the sun to
shine a little more kindly,
creating silver lines

May, 2017

butterflies & bones

butterflies in stomachs
storms in minds
hearts of stone
look inside and you’ll find
the book of nature illustrates
itself within your chapter of life
and mine – there’s nothing
the world wouldn’t write
to grow the loveliest of flowers
to decorate our bones

June, 2017

night ink

take me somewhere
my mind melts
into the wind
sending people
into the sky, to
loop the world –
they’ll see the dark
blue ink of the
night sky, and
the cold metal grey
eyes of the water below

July, 2017


emotion is the
metal that bends,
sending a cold
sweat across my
skin or a flush of
fire across my face
or a heartbeat
lacing blood
quicker, hotter
through my veins

August, 2017


there are songs
you feel
pressing their faces in
vulnerable places
and you grab them by the hair
let them stare you hard in the eyes
reading everything between
the lines
and when they rise,
to form words
you savor their taste
in your mouth
then let them roll out
against the skin of the night
to be heard

September, 2017

the art of crawling out

inside my skull is a rock wall
dig your fingers, raw into the layers
try to climb up the skin of my brain
step all over that pain, listen to
anxiety rip out papers, twist the letters
rewrite them and sing them with
awful sounds, watch them pick
up rubber bands, pull them tight
let them loose until their bodies
slap across the ground – and
then i reread it all again –
even though i said it was all done,
finished, the end – i’ll rake them
up, sort them, file them,
staple them upon walls within my heart
just to make sure all the pieces
aren’t missing any parts

October, 2017


frightened to the bone,
your blood wanted to run right
out of you, turning your skin
cold and head light
anxiety swarms your brain like bees
nervous that ghosts might unravel themselves
from the shadows of the night
and float like balloons in the wind,
bending their knuckles around
your eyes, you can feel them
climbing up your spine
wondering why you turned the light off
but it continues to shine
from the other room,
someone calls from the hall,
you turn around and see nothing,
not anyone, not even yourself at all

November, 2017

to catch ourselves, the fireflies

sometimes i want to
walk on the moon
let the weight of my worries
feel a little lighter on
my shoulders, gravity won’t
hold us down too much
sometimes i want to
walk on Mercury, feel closer to
the sharper, hotter touch
of fire from a dying star
we think of ourselves as temporary
and the universe everlasting
when all of us from humans
to ants to planets to jellyfish
to comets, are just glittering
dust settling into bottles and jars

December, 2017

out of the way

when adventuring
people rarely take roads
poked with potholes

puddles on rainy days
biting at jeans

clouds roll around on their
bellies in the skies

people rarely walk the ways which
take them out of their way
when it’s that distance, which
will make them fly